50 Days of Not Forgetting
by ThreeJays
Summary: **SPOILERS through 2x08** Short entries from Elena's diary where she deals with the confession she was never supposed to remember. Damon/Elena with some Stefan/Elena initially.
1. Chapter 1

**DAY ONE:**

Dear Diary,

I've never wished in my life to be compelled before tonight. Tonight, I really, _really_ wish I forgot everything I just heard. But I didn't. And I'm pretty sure there's no unhearing something like that.

It'd be easier if this made me hate him more. If I maybe believed it was some new version of his standard god-awful plan, but I can't. He was a mess, I could feel it. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in every ragged breath he took. No one's that good. Not even Damon.

God, why didn't I stop him? I mean, I could have plugged my ears or screamed at the top of my lungs telling him that I'd just sucked down a big fat cup tea brewed with every freaking sprig of vervain we have in this house. But, no, I didn't do any of that. I just sat there soaking in every. single. word.

My heart was pounding a thousand miles an hour. I can still feel it pounding, because I'm thinking about it all again. It's like my ribs are barely strong enough to hold it in my chest.

What's wrong with me that he affects me like this? I don't want him. I don't love him. I love Stefan.

So, why do I still feel the press of Damon's lips against my forehead? And why is my stomach wadded into a tiny little knot every time I think of the way he looked at me? Why is it that I can't sleep, though I'm beyond exhausted, because all I can hear is his words over and over in my mind.

So what if he loves me. It shouldn't matter. If anything I should be grateful. Now he'll leave Stefan and I alone. Finally, I will be free of all those weird, longing looks he shoots my way. This is exactly what I've been hoping for.

So, why don't I feel relieved?

**DAY FOUR:**

Dear Diary,

Damon is sleeping with Rose. The fact that I feel the need to address this in my diary is seriously disturbing. Obviously I need medication. Or maybe a lobotomy.

I should be talking about Stefan, my completely gorgeous and perfect boyfriend. Yeah, we're an item again. Sort of. I think. In between trying to avoid every powerful vampire anyone's ever heard of, Stefan and I take long walks. We share deep, lingering kisses. We gaze into each other's eyes and it would be completely epic like it usually is. Except that I sometimes still think about what Damon said to me.

Sometimes.

I thought about it tonight when I bumped into Rose in their kitchen. She was wearing one of Damon's shirts. I didn't ask her for proof, but I'm pretty sure that's all she was wearing. She was fixing two glasses of Scotch with a smug little smile. And maybe that's not proof, but I know just-been-sexed hair when I see it. I was probably sporting it myself.

Which makes my noticing this and feeling the need to write about it even more screwed up than it already is.

**DAY THIRTEEN:**

Dear Diary,

Rose is out, and now there's a blonde. Nine days? That's skirting really close to flavor of the week material. Is that what I was? His obsession of the week?

Ugh, why does this matter? Why can't I just be happy?

My boyfriend? He's a saint. He sends me roses. He packed me a picnic with fresh strawberries and little, tiny cheeses. He keeps a special fuzzy blanket on his bed, just because I like it and he swears he'd die to protect me, and I know it's not lip service. He'd do anything for me. I adore him.

But adore him or not, when we came home from the movies and found Damon on the couch with his new plaything, I couldn't tear my eyes away. She had her head tossed back, eyes closed, mouth open. He was kissing her in that super tender hollow behind the ear.

I saw his fingers splayed on her thigh and I am going straight to hell, do you hear me, right down to the fiery pit, because for one minute I wondered what his hands would feel like on me. I know. Straight to to hell. In a hand basket, whatever that means.

He looked up at us, at me. And then he took her upstairs. There was no smugness. No humor. He didn't even smirk. He just left.

Stefan and I had sex that night and I wasn't quiet like I usually try to be. I let out every moan and every sigh. It's like someone else has taken over my body, someone bent on self-destruction and total humiliation. I hate myself a little for it, but I know some part of me wanted him to hear. Which makes me horrible and sick in a thousand ways.

I still love Stefan. More than anything. More than I can express. So, what does it mean that I thought about Damon's hands when he touched me tonight?


	2. Chapter 2

_**** A/N: Having too much fun slapping this together. The entries are all short, so I'll probably be posting three at a time. I think there are two more chapters to go. Enjoy – and thanks to those who review – it's always good to know I'm not just amusing myself. :-) ****_

**DAY TWENTY:**

Dear Diary,

I used to hate girls like me. I don't even know how this happened. You wake up one day and you realize that you're turning into someone you really don't like. Someone…ungrateful.

I have a lot to be happy about. I mean, it's not a fairytale, but I've got a devoted guy and great friends. For once in a long time, my brother is smiling and the whole supernatural threat to my existence is simmering quietly on the back burner.

I should be enjoying every second of this, but I'm not. I'm edgy. Distracted. It's almost like I'm looking for something, like I'm forgetting something. But what? What did I lose?

I wish I didn't know the answer, but I think I do.

Today I saw Stefan laughing with Caroline. They were working in the school office, some sort of work study nightmare that I managed to avoid. The radio was on and they were singing along. Badly. Being crazy. He was doing a shockingly good Elvis impression and she was shuffling back and forth like a back-up singer, using a ruler as a microphone.

They looked so ridiculous. I almost took a picture with my phone, but then I just stopped. I felt like I was intruding. And it wasn't because I wished Stefan and I could be silly like that, which we hardly ever are. This would be a lot easier if I was just playing a jealous girlfriend card, but I wasn't.

Instead, for one second, I felt sad watching them. Damon used to make me laugh like that. But you have to talk to people to make them laugh. And Damon never talks to me. Not anymore.

I think he's the thing I miss.

I wish I didn't.

**DAY TWENTY-SIX:**

Dear Diary,

I ran into Damon in the kitchen tonight. I hadn't seen him in eight days. God, I can't even decide what's more disturbing, the fact that I haven't seen him in eight days or the fact that I know exactly how many days it's been since I've seen him.

I was leaned into the fridge searching desperately for something other than a blood bag when he walked in. I stood up and slammed right into him, my butt bumping hard against his hip. It was a prime opportunity for one of his standard you-know-you-want-me comments. At the very least, it warranted a heavy dose of that eye thing he does. Or used to do.

He didn't do it. He didn't say anything. He could barely even look at me.

I apologized and tried vainly to make some small talk. He mostly stared at the doorway, trying obviously to think of an excuse to run out of the room. Finally, he got the ice he'd come in for, and he left.

I heard him disappearing up the stairs. And I sat in the kitchen and damn near cried.

**DAY THIRTY-ONE: **

I screwed up. Bad.

I snuck into Damon's room last night. It's so crazy, it doesn't even feel real. But it's real. It happened. I mean nothing happened, but still. I did this.

God, what's going on with me? Why would I do something so stupid?

The whole night started like crap. Stefan and I were just…off. Things have been kind of weird for awhile, maybe ever since we got back together. We're not fighting, really. We don't fight. Not ever. Sometimes I wonder if either one of us feel strongly enough about anything anymore to fight.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that I couldn't stop obsessing last night. What the hell happened to Damon? He used to be like a fly around me, constantly present, eternally buzzing around my ears with a snarky one-liner. Now, that fly is gone, but only with me. He's the same old Damon with Alaric, with Jeremy, even with Caroline.

Is this what he meant when he said he couldn't be selfish with me? That he'd just erase me from his life so he didn't have to want me anymore?

I feel invisible with him. Not that he's been rude. He's been perfectly cordial. Even Stefan has commented on the refreshing change. Damon is nice as pie, and as distant as humanly possible.

Again, isn't this exactly what I wanted?

Either way, I obsessed all last night at Stefan's place. Stefan had been dead to the world for hours, but I was biting my nails, my mind running a hundred miles a minute.

I don't know how or why, but I found myself tip-toeing down the hallway towards Damon's room. Their rooms are on the most opposite sides of the hallway possible, so I had a long time to turn back.

I didn't.

His door was open. I'd never been in his room before. I crept inside like the crazy stalker I'm turning into. I didn't even knock. I think I expected his room to be different, maybe mirrors on the ceiling or something. It was nice. A little messy.

He was asleep. Of course. It was four o'clock in the morning – everyone on the freaking planet was asleep. He was stretched out on his stomach, shirtless and arms curled around a pillow. He really is ridiculously beautiful. I guess that's not new, but I think it's the first time I've ever let myself look.

I don't know how long I stood there. And I don't know why I decided it would be a good idea to touch him, but I did, pushing a strand of his hair off his forehead.

Yeah, real smart, huh? Because that would never wake a vampire up.

He woke up.

Looked me right in the eyes with an expression I couldn't interpret if you paid me. Whatever that look was, I felt it from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet. I'm still feeling it right now. I don't know if he was going to say anything. I ran too fast to find out.

Now, it's twenty hours later. I'm in my own bedroom miles away and I still feel like I should run as fast as I can.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Thanks so much for the reviews – it's really nice when people take the time to leave them. :-) This is the second to last chapter – and sadly, my least favorite entries. I've played with them all day, but I don't think they're getting any better, so I'm cutting them loose and calling it a day. :-( The last three I'm pretty stoked about – at any rate, enjoy and review if you have a minute – it really is the best. **

**A/N 2 - Sorry! Uploaded the wrong version - small change - no big**

**DAY THIRTY FOUR**

Dear Diary,

We went back to Duke again: Damon, Alaric and me. Why can't I go to college to consider my future or maybe to sneak into bars? No, I have to go to research original vampires.

Stefan was supposed to come, but he's babysitting Tyler for the full moon. Since Damon's track record leaving werewolves alive is at 100% fail, Stefan thought it would be best if he tagged along. Terrific idea.

So, I sat in the back sweating bullets for an hour, but Damon never said a word about the other night.

Thank God.

And also…why not?

I mean, I showed up in his room in the middle of the night. When my psycho vampire doppelganger kisses him pretending to be me, _that's _worthy of an interrogation. But this? This isn't even something to mention in passing? How did he know it wasn't Katherine, somehow escaping the tomb?

See? This is how crazy I am. I can't even be grateful that my lapse in sanity went unnoticed.

Back to Duke, and the point of all of this.

The point is, I fell. Damon wasn't even in the room. He doesn't just avoid me these days. He avoids my whole zip code. He stayed out front and flirted with college girls, who all flirted back, naturally. Between his blabbing and their giggling, I swear to God I thought I'd lose my mind.

I was perched on this rickety ladder, poring over the darkest, most cobwebby top shelf imaginable. And of course, even breaking every ladder safety rule I know, I could barely reach anything. So, I strained up on my tiptoes. The rung I was standing on snapped free on one side. I didn't have time to scream. I just took a sharp breath and flailed wildly as I fell. And then, wham, he caught me.

In that split second when he had me in his arms, he looked at me like he hasn't in five weeks, intense, searching, half-terrified.

And then? Miracle of freaking miracles. He spoke. Of course, he was a complete ass. He told me I was a pain and that he was going to lose two or three of his nine lives making sure I didn't kill myself. He bitched and griped, but I didn't care. Embarassing as it is, I ate up every minute.

Because he was Damon again.

And then, just like that, he wasn't. He went totally quiet. I tried to thank him, but it was too late. He deposited me politely on the ground and walked away. And that was that.

This time I did cry. I snuck into a bathroom down the hall and snotted into a pile of rough toilet paper until my eyes burned.

**DAY THIRTY-SEVEN**

Dear Diary,

Stefan and I broke up last night. I don't know who did the breaking. I sort of think we did it together. I still love him. I'll always love him. But it's changing. There are too many things between us. Katherine shaped things. Damon shaped things, too.

We've been here before, but I'm pretty sure this one's going to stick. Honestly, I think it stuck last time and we just weren't ready to let go. We're ready now. And I think we're both going to be okay.

I felt really good today, better than I probably should. I was determined to get that balance back, to be rational and sane and normal, for God's sake. I was all set to do some yoga and write deep thoughts in here and let this crap with Damon go.

Which would be a hell of a lot easier if he wasn't on my roof even as I write this.

Okay, I don't know for sure that he's here. I mean, I haven't checked. Which means I can probably add paranoid and delusional to my growing list of bad character traits.

A little while ago I opened my window and leaned out, closing my eyes as I breathed in the night air. I imagined him looking down on me. I almost said his name.

In the end, I went inside like a sane person.

I don't feel very sane anymore.

**DAY FORTY-FOUR**

Dear Diary,

I have officially lost my mind. I'm serious. Someone needs to take me away in a padded van.

I saw Damon at the Grill. With a redhead this time. He was smirking and leaned right up against her back when she lined up a shot with the eight ball. Typical Damon. No cause for alarm.

Unless you're me, apparently.

I waited until he went to the bathroom. And I followed him. I'm not proud, but there it is. When he came back out, his smirk literally died on his lips the second he saw me. There we were, trapped in a dark hallway between a pair of bathroom doors and a payphone that stopped working when I was eight years old.

He asked me what was wrong. I told him that he lied to me. Oh yeah. I went there. I laid into him like a bad ex-girlfriend. I told him that I remember everything that night he gave me my locket. I repeated every word. Verbatim. Because I have it memorized, I am that sick.

His eyes went wide and his jaw clenched, but he just stood there. So I kept on going. I told him he had no right to tell me those things, to tell me he loved me when he was clearly just having some sort of fleeting emo moment. I asked him why he had to say it and then, without giving him one second to answer me, I asked him if a single word of it was true.

That must have really pissed him off.

His eyes went dark and he walked towards me, until he was so close that I could smell his leather coat. I felt dizzy. Drunk, even, though I'd had nothing stronger than iced tea. I don't even know if it's possible, but it was like the air around us was charged. Electric. I wanted…I don't even know what I wanted, but I wanted it so badly my whole body was aching.

He took a breath and reached for my face.

Then the redhead was back. She said she needed to check her lipstick.

Sure she did.

And I was back there _checking _the weather.

He didn't say anything else, obviously. But they didn't leave together. And when she leaned over to take a shot, his eyes found mine across the room. Every single time.


	4. Chapter 4

****A/N – Last chapter – man, I slapped them up fast. I wrote it all in one sitting honestly and have been fiddling with them ever since. I probably should have dragged it out, but I have no patience. If people are reading it, I might as well post them, right? ;-) Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Your reviews have been so lovely - thank you all for the comments. It is such a treat to get them. So, drop me a line to let me know what you think – and HAPPY THURSDAY! May TVD be awesome as it ever is tonight.****

**DAY FORTY-SIX**

Dear Diary,

My hands are shaking so badly that I can't even imagine being able to read this entry later. And I'll want to, I know I will. Because I'll never want to forget this moment, not as long as I live.

He was waiting for me tonight. My room was dark when I came in from the bathroom, but the curtains were open to let the moonlight in. Everything was washed in this pretty, pale glow. And he was there, standing in front of my window, a black silhouette with hands fisted at his sides.

I felt rooted into the ground. I just froze. He came to me and I took a breath, smelling the crisp promise of snow. And Damon. That one breath brought me back to every time he'd ever looked at me, brushed past me, done that thing with his eyes that makes me feel dirty and beautiful at the same time.

God, that boy does things to me that shouldn't be possible. They just shouldn't.

For awhile I wasn't sure if he was going to say anything. Then he took a long shuddering breath and the dam broke. He said so much so quickly that I could barely keep up.

He told me that he meant it all, every word, that he loved me, that he's always loved me, that it's eating him alive. He said he's whipped and pathetic and that he can't help it and doesn't even think he wants to. He said a thousand other things, but I couldn't hear them all because it was making my head spin and my heart fly. I curled my fingers into fists and hoped to God I wouldn't explode into a thousand pieces in the middle of my bedroom.

Then, he did this thing, this thing…I can't breathe even now and I'm just _thinking_ about it. And it's nothing. He leaned in and I closed my eyes and then I felt the press of his forehead against mine. Oh, God, he made this soft, soft noise in his throat and it cut right through me. I have no idea how my knees held me up.

I twisted, trying to touch him, trying to kiss him, but somehow his mouth ended up near my ear. I curled my fingers in the front of his shirt and whimpered, but he took it all wrong. He took everything wrong.

He swore he'd do better. He swore he wouldn't do this to me again. And then with one firm kiss to my temple, he was gone.

**DAY FORTY-EIGHT:**

How did this happen? How did I fall for Damon Salvatore?

Because I did. I know that now. I'm in love with him. And he's in love with me. And we're both so scared, we can't even stand in the same space without it feeling like the earth's going to crack open beneath our feet.

He's running and I'm chasing this time. I've almost caught him twice, once at the Grill where he left behind a bewildered bartender and a barely touched glass of scotch. Then, I found his car parked in town square. I sat on the hood and read Cosmo for four straight hours before finally being forced to take a bathroom break. He was gone when I came out.

I sent him a text calling a twelve year old girl.

He didn't reply.

And now I'm in employing the dirtiest trick I know. I used the key Stefan never asked me to return. Yeah, it was too low even for me. I didn't even make it to the stairs.

But I ran into him on my way out. He was on his way in. One look and he had me. I swear I could hear music rising. I felt a smile coming, one of those big ones that make your cheeks hurt. I was that happy.

Damon was not. I saw the dark look that flashed over him, but it didn't make any sense. I kept thinking, this is it. We can finally get this all out in the open. But he was having none of that.

Because he thought I was there to see Stefan.

He rushed past me, but I caught his sleeve, and his scowl before he could hide it.

I told him Stefan and I were over. Forever over. I'm not sure he believed me, so I said it again. Told him I was here for him. I asked him to look at me, to say something.

He looked like he wanted to. I thought he would, but he didn't.

Maybe we really can't fix any of this. It would take a damn miracle.

**DAY FIFTY:**

Miracles exist.

He came to my window like he always does, lurking just inside the frame, his face dark and unreadable. It made me think of every other time he's been here, heart on his sleeve and words spilling from his lips.

Tonight it was my turn to talk.

It was hard. I was so shaky, so damn scared to screw this up. Maybe scared too of what would happen if it does work. What the world would be like if we were together.

I could barely cross the room, but I did it.

I pulled him away from the window and he let me lead him like a little kid. He wouldn't look at me. I could see him trying to say something, but maybe he was scared too. And I couldn't think of where to begin, so for awhile it was quiet. Scary quiet.

Then I wrapped my arms around his middle and burrowed into him. I held on tight. I felt him go stiff and breathless at my embrace, felt the wonder in his hands as they landed gently on my shoulders.

I pressed my cheek to the hard plane of his stomach and whispered that he makes me crazy, that he's always, always made me crazy. I told him that none of this will be easy and that there are a thousand reasons why we shouldn't, but that I can't make myself care about any of them.

And then I told him I loved him. He trembled when I said that.

So I said it again, with my mouth at his throat. I felt him swallow hard.

And then I said it, one more time, just before I kissed him.

It started baby soft, one chaste kissed pressed to his mouth. Then he looked at me, touched my locket, just to be sure.

He said my name. One word. Ten thousand words couldn't have said more.

Then he hauled me in and kissed me like he's waited forever to do it. I felt him everywhere, like a fire, his hands in my hair, on my neck, sliding under the back of my shirt. I couldn't get enough of him. I could barely force myself to stop for air. His kiss is like a drug, and I don't want to live without it anymore.

We were undressed in record time. I don't know how it happened and I don't care. We were half-laughing, half-crying. He ripped my pajamas trying to get them off of me. I tripped over my own pants and he caught me as I tumbled back sideways across my bed. And then he hovered over me, shushing my laughter, though he was barely able to hold his own in.

Then he pushed my hair away from my forehead and told me we're a hot mess already. He was right. We are. We probably always will be. But there's something beautiful about us, I think.

When he settled his hips between my legs, it was more than sex. It was more than anything I know words for. The feel of him filling me up, groaning my name like a prayer against my lips…it changed everything for me. Everything.

He's sleeping now, hogging the covers and taking way more than his half of my bed. The boy is still crazy beautiful, even sprawled out with his mouth half open and his arm curled over my bare belly. He's _so_ intense, even asleep.

I've never been loved with that kind of fierceness. But so far…oh, he's waking up…okay, he's grabbing my pen so-

_Dear Diary,_

_I've been watching Elena with God and everybody for the last year, so now that I have her, naked and willing in her adorable girly bed, I'm not in a sharing mood. But don't worry, I promise to do all sorts of wicked things she can write about later. Much later._

_Damon_


End file.
